He Sees Her
by Dark Mousy
Summary: [Tidus/Yuna,Rikku/Auron,Wakka/Lulu, AU] In a new time, everything has changed. Tidus meets Yuna by a near death experience... Rikku has witnessed a murder and is put under protection by Auron, and Wakka? Well, Wakka...
1. TidusYuna In His Eyes

He Sees Her

Chapter One: Tidus/Yuna – In His Eyes

By: Dark Mousy 

His hands were tight; his muscles tense as he gripped the leather-clad wheel as if he would never let it go. The rain pelted his car windows in torrents, while the wind beckoned his car off the highway road with its immeasurable speeds. 

            Tidus had never had a problem with driving before, but the rain and the night made him nervous, since he could not see more than three feet in front of his car. He was practically letting it glide, only keeping his foot on the break to regulate the speed the wind was pushing him in. He thought about pulling his car into the side, but as he looked, the street lights illuminated the many cars already stopped there, hoping for the rain to pass.

            He tried to think of something to lift his spirits, like the Blitzball game he was driving away from. They had a victory of 7 to 0 and it was something to be proud of. However, these thoughts quickly left his mind, as loud, screeching noise rang in his ears.

            He heard crash, after crash, after crash, and even in the quiet safety of his own Saturn XL100 he could hear the glass breaking and shattering… And it kept continuing. A few minutes of consecutive crashes, and his eyes could do nothing but watch the blinding fog in front of him while his ears took in the sounds of eminent death.

            It was all over. Despite the rain, the blonde opened his car door, and stepped out of his black car. His cornflower blue eyes widened and shone when the lightning shined its momentary grace upon the scene that lay before him. In front of him was a mechanical graveyard. He couldn't even begin to count the cars piled up. Quickly, he ducked back into his car and punched on the blinders, and he noticed that those around him stopped and did the same thing to illuminate the scene. When he looked around him for some kind of sign of what he should do, he saw no one gossiping, or trying to peek over each other to try and see exactly what happened. Everyone seemed to just stand there in a shock, horrified by the scene in front of them that had taken place only moments before.

            He had been going up the highway, and so the main direction of the rain was flowing down towards him, the cold liquid flowing over his yellow sneakers. When he looked down to find the water going into his sneakers, the lightning flashed, and he could see that the water was tainted with blood. The initial shock faded for him, and he ran forward to the scene, in his soaked Blitz uniform. His action caused those around him to break their moment of shock, as they too, went forward to see what they could do. Those that stayed behind utilized their cell phones from their cars, obviously notifying the authorities that an ambulance or more would be needed…

            In a thunderstorm, a pile of metal soaked with water is never a good thing. Tidus stopped before the first car he had seen, and when he looked down, he saw a pale, feminine hand hanging out of a cracked window from her upside-down car. He panicked slightly; he didn't know anything about such things and he knew that moving someone from a car wreck could break their neck. 

            The boy leaned down, practically on his stomach as he looked inside the dimly lit car. Her body had indeed flipped upside down, but the larger part of her torso was curled against the ground, and he only hoped that it was not a neck-breaking flip. Tentatively, he reached out his fingers, and held them to her neck.

            With the rumbling of the thunder and the pouring of the rain, it took him some time to find a pulse, but he felt relieved when he did. The girl was far past unconscious, and a cut on her temple bled heavily, covering most features of her face, but the rest still stayed. In his moment of shock over what he could do, he looked at the young woman, with her blood-matted and soaked brown hair, and strange Japanese-like dress, although she did not look like the person to just wear them out in public, nor did she look cultured in such a way. Tidus dismissed it, however, as probably being a Kyoto teacher of some sort and left it at that.

            He brushed away the glass that was jetting out with his gloved hands, giving him a clear shot to be able to hold the door so he would be able to open it. The door itself had been smashed into the ground, so there would be no way he could try and open it to allow her easier access out. He knew that if he tried to take her out from the window the glass would cut her.

            Already, the sound of loud sirens could be heard as people rushed to move their vehicles to the side to allow the ambulances access. Tidus heard the girl moan slightly, and then he began to waste no more time as he planted his feet onto the wet ground, and used the car for leverage as he worked to free the door. His eyes closed, and his muscles in his toned arms and legs tightened with the effort of prying the metal from being crushed around it. The metal gave another creak, and Tidus fell backwards to the asphalt as the metal door fell on him.

            The water began to run off him as well, and he grimaced as he pushed the door up and off him. The blitz player got up shakily, before making his way to the car, finding her arm had draped out again. Without an impulse, he took her hand in his gloved one.

            "Just hang on for a little longer, ok?" His voice, even through the thunder, was soothing, and smooth. He was trying to stay calm for a woman he didn't even know.

            He was relieved when she grasped his hand only lightly, and he took this as a sign that he would be able to move her from the car. Gently, he kneeled down lower, and lifted her upper body from the roof of the car enough for him to get both his arms under her torso. He braced his feet on the wet ground, gently moving back in a crawling position as he straightened her body as much as he could, and began to pull her out; keeping her upper body from touching the glass that lied under her. 

            When he finally pulled her out gently enough, he had put her so that she lied on top of him with her back on him while he lied on the ground. He sighed when he sensed movement from her, and he was forced to close his eyes against the rain that was coming down more heavily. He felt her drop her hand at his side, and when it landed on his own, the unconscious girl wrapped her hand around his, and made no more movements. 

            He was forced to open his eyes when a red light was passed over them, and he was looking up to the face of a worried EMS. 

            "Sir, do you need medical attention? Were you in the accident?"

            Tidus looked up at him, in his own world for a moment or two, with the events that had happened in less than thirty minutes.

            "Sir? Are you all right sir?"

            "She needs it, please get her an ambulance." He said, more calmly than he would have thought. There were flashing red lights everywhere, from ambulances and fire trucks and police cars alike, and the voices of those trying to get people out of their cars could be heard over everything else. He knew there were more ambulances coming… There had to be. There had to be more than thirty cars in the pileup… But it happened in a matter of minutes. Tidus couldn't even begin to comprehend how death could happen right in front of his eyes so quickly, and he had just come from a game… He was so happy then. 

            He waited for only a few minutes, and even under her he could feel the soft rise and fall of her breaths. She had the main cut on her temple and various cuts along her body, but nothing looked bad… Unless she had bruised something he couldn't see or hurt her head. He was forced to open his eyes again when the same man spoke to him again. 

            "Sir, we can take her now. Do you know this woman?" 

            Tidus was about to reply as a no, but he felt his hand being squeezed lightly, and so he bit his bottom lip before saying an answer. 

            "Sir?"

            "Yeah…" He replied, and closed his eyes against the rain. He already knew that saying that gave him a right to go into the ambulance with her, and yet he still wondered why he had even said yes instead of just allowing them to take her and not see her again. But when she squeezed his hand he felt something, remorse, sadness, and the knowledge that she only wanted someone to be with her.

            The men pulled the ambulance as close as they could without damaging the lighting used to try and get the people out. They didn't bring the stretcher out because it would only get soaked by the rain, so instead the two men lifted her off him gently, and laid her on the stretcher in the ambulance. Without even looking to Tidus, one of them went to drive the ambulance, while the other went into the ambulance. Realizing that they would leave without him, he got up quickly, ducked into the back of the ambulance, and shut the door. 

            As the ambulance began to leave, the man next to them put his gloves on, instructed Tidus to sit down, and began his work. Tidus was only staring at her face, before his attention moved down to here her delicate hand was hanging off the stretcher, the fingers curling and uncurling lightly as if expecting something. He, without thought, reached out his gloved hand, and she held it. She couldn't see him, but she probably knew it was he by the feel of his glove.

            "How is she?" 

            "We won't know if it's a concussion until we run some tests, but nothing looks broken, just cuts and bruises. She was one of the lucky ones, but with that on her temple the hospital will most likely keep her for a night just to make sure."

            The blonde nodded, and looked back to her face, which the man had been nice enough to dry with a rag, and had put a clean, white bandage on the cut. Her face looked serene, and more beautiful than he had seen… He had thought some of his fan girls attractive before, but never like this… It was beauty to be revered, something he had never seen.

            And as she still held his hand while the ambulance pushed through traffic to the hospital, Tidus looked on the face of the woman who would change his life forever.

            A woman, who, he would later find out, was named Yuna. 

AN – I'll be switching from Yudus to Aurikku to Lukka from chapter to chapter, it will say what the pairing is before the chapter name. Yes, eventually all of them will meet and they will all be in the same time. Don't worry, there will be adversary junk like that, all elements needed in a story from my point of view. Auron may or may not be younger when his chapter starts, I haven't decided that. If you don't like Aurikku, just read the Yudus chapters and skip over those. ^^ If you do like Aurikku, tell me what you think I should do in the reviews. And I won't go lower than 28. 

In fact, tell me if I should continue at all. O.o This is a modern time fic, but not a modern time world… Blitzball is here, this is like… an AU Spira-gone-modern. 


	2. AuronRikku In His Heart

He Sees Her

Chapter Two: In His Heart

**By: Dark Mousy**

Rating: R for later chapters.

Story:  Tidus finds Yuna in a tragic car pileup… Auron is served as Rikku's protector from witnessing a murder… And Wakka is a college slob trying to pick up a beautiful woman who is not all what she seems.

Warnings: Some angst from Rikku, but nothing big. ^_^ Th' Lady Shadow… *Sniffles* You're saying my story made your day? Your review made mine! Now I'm afraid this chapter may suck because… Now I have standards to get up to. O.O; I mean, what if this chapter isn't as good as the last? I lose people! Agh. @_@ The horror! ^^;;

Post-story Notes: This chapter has more insight on Auron and his 'past' according to… me. ^^; This pairing isn't going to pop up like a daisy, so thou must be patient.

**_Life it seems…_**

**_Will fade away._****__**

**_Drifting farther…_**

**_Every day._****__**

**_Getting lost within myself…_**

**_Nothing matters, no one else._**

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                There was rain, faintly, but not a hint of thunder. The streets were dark, yet the rain reflected the filtered light coming from the beat-up posts spread sporadically along the sides. Most stores were closed; the only lights coming from the small bookstore and café on the side, and a bar where the muffled sounds of music came from.

                A crimson-clad man walked, alone. His booted feet hit the puddled ground lightly; causing small droplets to rise and fall where he stepped. He always walked the same sidewalk – the same street – every night, for as long as he could remember. It was his job, his strange passion that he wanted to fulfill since childhood.

                As he walked, he reminisced of how he had always been asked, by the same old woman who lived in the apartment next to his: "Why do you protect?"

                In truth, he did not know. He had once been a policeman, the best on the team… But he had quit, after stopping the drug channel that scarred his face; and that put a bullet through his chest. He could still feel it – the pain – the thought of dying. He had felt blood before… But never so much… never so warm… so terrifying. He remembered the thought of having no one to miss; no one to miss him; no one to mourn. In a way, he felt that it would take him into death easier… And yet, he felt empty. When his blood was pouring out onto the hot concrete, and crimson stained his sight; he felt sad – remorseful – for the first time in years.

                It just… stayed with him.

                It had been his fault that a young girl had died on that day; even when he had thrown his body in front of her own the shot tore through him, and still hit her… And yet she had died, while he had lived. All the times he had ever thought about it… It was always to be the other way around. He was supposed to die – protecting her. Yet he had failed, and he carried it like titanium chains around his neck, wrists, and ankles. He could never forget.

                After that he knew that he would never be able to repair the damage, but he could be able to prevent it… to pick up from where he failed. The men that they had captured had killed so many – not only men, but women and children – and he found it… his one calling. That day, when he lied in his own pool of blood; he knew.

                He not only wanted to protect; but to stop it where it started. To stop the murders, if it meant to track down the murderers to the ends of the earth he would do it. It was his only recompense for the life that ended because of him. 

                As he pulled the sleeve of his crimson coat up to reveal a bar code; he made no sound. He was already inside the main gate, but to get inside his section of the FBI building it required the barcode that had been tattooed into his skin; along with small machines underneath. Those were in place in case of his death – if his vital signs failed, the main computer would know, and scramble the codes – just in case someone wanted to take his arm to get into the building.

                The familiar red light passed over the code, and allowed him through the steel door that slid open quietly; like an automatic door at a grocery store. As he walked down the narrow hallway monitored with cameras, he could hear the clicking; and above him, saw one blue light fade under a small shield placed around it. It was the final door; the retinal scan. The computer had, upon reading his code, closed off the right light, so that the retinal scanner would only scan his left and find it feasible. 

               As soon as that door clicked and slid open, it was as if he had stepped into another world. Yet this world was his own, and a world he was comfortable with. Immediately upon stepping in; he shook the rainwater from his unruly brown strands, and hung his dripping coat on the metal rack off to the side, where his name was above.

                "Ah, Damnit, Auron! Could you not 'ave at LEAST shaken the water out in the 'all where I  have not to clean?!" An older Italian lady pushing a cleaning cart waved her fist at the surprised man, while she yelled in a heavy accent. "Se soltanto la vostra madre fosse qui, potrei chiederle il permesso dare dei calci a quella testarda, parte posteriore good-for-nothing di il vostro! Il mio dio, ogni volta che piove. Dovrei sapere!" (If only your mother were here, I would be able to ask her permission to kick that stubborn, good-for-nothing rear of yours! My god, every time it rains. I should have known!)

                Auron blinked an eye, as he watched the old woman pull out her cleaning supplies with a huff while she muttered more in Italian. He had no idea what she said, but he then decided it was best he didn't – Puli had distaste for him ever since he had come to the office. 

                Pul had been with the office longer than Auron had; and was the only custodian in the entire office. It seemed as if she never took a break, but she was the only one the office trusted to be going in and out as she pleased. Even she had a barcode on her arm.

                No sooner had he turned his eyes up, that he saw a familiar grizzled face poke his way out of the first side door.

                "Hey Auron! A little late today, huh? Not much like you. And especially today."

                Auron made a slight half-smirk, as he looked to his old friend, and was careful to step over the cleaning supplies Puli had laid out.

                "You are leaving PRINTS!" She yelled, then muttered more in Italian; causing both Auron and Jecht to flinch.

                Auron ducked into the room; and Jecht laughed heartily as he slammed the door on Puli's ranting. "The wrath of the cleaning lady. I got it this morning, and even the bruise to show for it. She hit me in the groin with her broom."

                He would have chuckled at that, but his russet eye fell to the desk, where vivid pictures lay splayed on it – the main color over taking them all being red.

                Blood.

                "A new homicide?" Auron asked quietly.

                Jecht stopped laughing, and turned his eyes to the desk – a serious face coming over him as he went to sit behind it. "I guess you could say so. But this is the mofo of all the cases we've ever done."

                "How so?" Auron asked absently, as he looked over the pictures. "Looks like a normal murder to me."

                Jecht laughed, and Auron looked up at him, to find him almost as giddy as a schoolboy. "The victim's name is Jyscal Guado. He was found this morning, on the twenty-third floor of GuaCom, stabbed sixty-three times and then hung on a coat rack."

                "Lovely for a bed time story."

                "C'mon, man. This is serious, and the best lead I can get on Seymour!"

                "Any suspects?"

                "Any live ones you mean?" Jecht chuckled. "The man that did it jumped out of the window shortly after. Just a normal bum off the street – with a shit load of cash in his pocket."

                "Forensics?"

                "On the scene right now. And I'd stake my life that it was his son, Seymour Guado. I've been trying to bag him for numerous accounts of hit man murder of all the leading companies that are stopping GuaCom from becoming a monopoly. And now that daddy's gone, little rich kid gets to take over the company."

                "Have they found evidence?"

                "Not sure." Jecht's voice became its usual gruff tone. "They haven't reported since noon; they're supposed to be reporting at about 10:00 p.m."

                "I doubt there will be a way to prove it was Seymour." Auron said, monotonously, as he set the gruesome photos back on the desk.

                There was a long silence, and Auron was forced to look up, to see Jecht's smug face.

                "Well, I happen to have a witness, Mr. Cynical."

                Auron raised an eyebrow at this. "Oh really."

                "Yuh, really." He got up, and opened the door, quickly checking to see if Puli had left the main hallway. "C'mon. She's in room S208, on floor five."

                "How did she see this?"

                "Haven't really asked her much yet, been kinda busy with the forensics team. But I do know one thing about her."

                "What is that."

                "Her name's Rikku… At least I think. I may have pronounced it wrong."


	3. WakkaLulu In His Mind

Every morning and afternoon he took the same decrepit train, subjecting himself to the gum-covered seats and skip jolting in turn. He hardly noticed how old it was, how overused it was, and how it was falling apart at the seams anymore than he did when he first started college – that train was his own. It was his own like his flat, which was just as dirty and decrepit as the public train – old, overused, and falling apart at the seems. His flat had everything that the subway had but the people. He was almost always alone.

            For the hour that he rode it he thought about whatever came to him – blitzball, school, loneliness. He had once tried to read to kill the time on the subway, yet that had only ended up in nausea. His tinted eyes always seemed sad as he looked to the other people riding the subway. Most of them were always talking, even though it was the early morning. Most of them had other people to sit by and communicate with.

            Except her.

            Her eyes always seemed narrowed, as if she was always calculating whatever fell into her mind. She always carried the same black briefcase, and he had always watched how the light gleamed off the polished leather in strange ways. It was always the little things that he noticed, like the way her lips were painted a soft lavender hue no matter what suit she was wearing, the way her hair was always neatly braided and adorned… the way she never smiled. He always watched her lips, the way they never moved, never opened, never parted. They were always pressed together as if she was angry – yet it never looked as if she had anything to be angry about. 

            He noticed how she always tended to black suits – and left her hands adorned with light rings that accentuated the slender curve of her fingers. Her neck was normally bare, save for a necklace with lavender beads… like her lips. He watched the way that her hand would move to brush away the hair from her eye, how even that movement was as fluid as if she herself was not real. Her nails were always neatly painted; there was never a chip, a crack, or a lapse in color. It was all even and perfect… perfect.

            To him, she was an embodiment of perfection. Her body form, her smooth skin, her graceful movements and her eyes… There was so much depth to them, yet he never looked her straight in the eye. She never noticed him. The only thing that her eyes saw was the outside world which flashed by the window where she sat. Her gaze never faltered. Even when he had fallen once in the train – she had never even turned to glance over. She had a strong hold on her curiosity.

            He had never heard her voice before, yet he imagined it to be as smooth as the way she carried herself. There was an apparent air of dignity around her, a regality that he was nothing against. He felt dirty compared to her, sloppy compared to her, lazy compared to her, everything and nothing… in her eyes. He went to school in sandals – she went in high heels. He went with wrinkled clothes, and she went in clothes that were so pressed he doubted he could cut them with a knife. He went in street clothes… she wore suits. He never was able to see what pass she took when the subway stopped, yet he could only guess she was a freshman in law school. 

            Wakka leaned back in the seat as he tore his eyes away from her, realizing that he had been staring for almost thirty minutes without faltering. It never occurred to him to ask her name – inside he felt unworthy of even speaking to someone like her, especially since he knew that he would make a fool of himself. He was always such a dunce, as most had called him. He didn't know how to talk to women for one thing, and he didn't consider himself intelligent enough to.

            He laughed to himself softly, as he pushed the headband up on his forehead slightly. He always endured one day of school for Blitzball practice afterward, where he'd get to talk to Tidus and do something he was actually good at… yet he still stood in the young Blitzer's shadow. Tidus had the looks, the charm, the fame, and the skills that Wakka just couldn't bring himself to attain. He had tried.

            It was true that Wakka didn't know her at all. He didn't know her name, her hobbies, her likes or dislikes… but he knew her eyes, and the way that the light glinted off her skin. The time that he had worked up the nerve to get up and ask her name he had fallen hard. She had not even turned her eyes to see him. She always seemed oblivious to everything, until the subway stopped and the door opened. 

            He gave a silly grin as he spun the Blitzball in his hands. If there was one thing good about his day, it was Blitzball practice. If there were two things good in the day, it was beautiful women and blitzball practice. If there were four, it was beautiful women, blitzball, and sleeping. 

            He remembered having asked Tidus the one thing that he thought was good in the day, and Tidus had answered with Wakka's first answer of beautiful women. When Wakka had asked him what he thought the two good things in the day were, and Tidus had answered beautiful women, and taking beautiful women home. Wakka decided not to ask the three good things in a day, but he was not so dense that he could not figure it out for himself.

            When he thought about Tidus' night life, he realized that the Blitz star had never been the type to truly tie down to one woman for more than a week. He, on the other hand, ended up being more of the romanticist, yet Wakka himself was such an oaf that he could not speak when around women he was interested in. Most of the time he would stutter uncontrollably, before they would laugh at him and leave… Most of the time he just isolated himself, knowing that he would never have what every other guy seemed to. He knew that it could also have been spurred by the fact that he had not had a girlfriend since he was in eleventh grade, and even then she was about the ugliest girl anyone had ever seen. 

            The subway took another jolt under him, and Wakka was force to reposition the blue band on his forehead. His new sandals tapped on the floor impatiently as the subway neared the next stop, waiting to be able to talk to her, or at least ask her name… At least to hear her voice, that would be enough for him.

            His gaze moved back to watch her, while his heart almost stopped in his chest as her gaze had caught his. Her eyes held something else within their depths, and to him, it looked to be amusement… arrogance. He felt redness burning in his cheek, before he gave a scowl and sunk down into the seat. He found himself watching her eyes until hers moved to gaze out the window and he forced his eyes back down to the Blitzball that was spinning in his hands.

            He dazed out for what seemed like hours, when in truth it had been only mere minutes. 

            "You're the captain of the hometown Blitzball team." Her voice came, and it was just as he had expected it to be. It had a cool, calm air to it, yet a sharp edge that cut at him lightly.

            Wakka, in turn, blinked in surprise. "Are you… talking to me?" 

            "Do you see anyone else with a blue band and a blitzball?" Her eyes betrayed the cold tone in her voice, yet she still continued to stare out the window as if she was not speaking to him at all.

            In the meantime, Wakka was busy looking for another guy with a blue band and a blitzball. When he found none, he laughed, settled in his seat, and sighed. "Ya."

            "Tell me your name." He noticed the gentle tone in her voice, and tried to study her eyes.

            He honestly felt that if he had died then, he would have been happy. "W-w-a…" He shook his head, before smacking his temple lightly. "Wakka."

            "Listen to me then, Wakka."

            "Mm?" He turned his body fully to her, intent on what she could have to say to him.

            "Stop staring at me."

            It was then that Wakka really wished he would have just died earlier. 


	4. TidusYuna In Her Pain

He Sees Her

By: Dark Mousy

Chapter Three: In Her Pain

            She had been meaning to move her purse.

            Her hand had grasped the smooth leather straps when she heard it. Unconsciously, her hand had grasped it tighter while her other hand pulled the wheel – narrowly missing the car she had been set to hit. The wheels churned the rainwater underneath as the metal beast spun, with the driver hanging on for life amidst the strange silence she found herself in the middle of.

            It was then that her wheel had caught a rift, and her car turned over. The silver flash rolled before it hit the heap of cars already piled. She felt the sensation of releasing her purse before her head hit the roof of her car.

            There was darkness. Her mind streamed in and out of consciousness and she felt her skull creak under the pressure. Her head hurt like nothing she had ever felt before. She could feel her neck ready to break under her body's weight.

            Her eyes remained open – staring as if in a dazed death. Her mind screamed for some sort of redemption, yet none came. Besides the rain, the only sound that came to her ears and tired mind was the sound of light shoes hitting the wet pavement. They were soft, melodic steps… enough to bring her mind from the hole it had dug itself into.

            _'Am I dead?'_

Her eyes saw the shadow of the figure move to the upturned car, before his face came to the window. It was a distinctly sharp face, handsomely beautiful yet still possessing a strangely dark touch. His eyes were sharp and slanted ever so slightly to give him a deadly look that would normally have wooed her heart. She was lost in those eyes – paying no attention to his stark black hair, the way it was long and spiked neatly despite the pouring rain.

            His gaze was intense on her. He was studying her, looking over her while her mind screamed for him to help her… to do something, anything. He was there, through the shattered window, kneeling on the ceiling of her upside down car beside her curled body.

            She didn't notice that she was not breathing. She was lost within that gaze – even the way his black suit was dry despite the harsh weather conditions outside. Without warning, his hand came to touch her cheek. His fingers caressed the smooth, blood-covered skin that he found there, while his other hand moved to her hip. His touch kneaded her skin through the fabric of her skirt, and if her body was able it would have trembled at such an invasive touch.

            His hand had moved to her chin, and his grip remained firm as he held her head fast. His free hand moved to grasp the back of her neck before he lifted the seemingly shattered bones and skin from the roof of the car. Her head lolled back from the lack of connection, but his grip on her chin stayed until he repositioned her body in a less fatal fashion.

            The bones in her neck felt as if they had never been put through such pressure.

            The next thing she knew was his face that had come into the paralyzed vision her glazed eyes had given her. His gaze burned into the core of her soul, and she felt as if his eyes alone had left a bleeding hole within her that burned like fire. She lost sight of him as he leaned down, and she felt nothing else until his lips pressed against hers.

            It was gentle at first, before his tongue parted her cooling lips to open her clenched teeth with a slight amount of force. Although she felt his warmth she could not respond to it. Her body would not move, and she found could not make any sound.

            She could feel his tongue roam the insides of her mouth – cleaning the blood away from her tongue and teeth. Once his tongue had retreated into its own territory, his mouth had completely covered hers. She felt him breathe into her. It was one, strangely inhuman breath that caused her back to arch and her body to convulse. She could feel his breath leave her nose and fill her lungs with burning warmth… She could feel her heart beat. It had been a breathe that filled her with life yet did nothing to heal the burning in her soul.

            She found her eyes blinking, while her tired lids lapped the gloss away from her eyes to form tears that ran down her cheeks – mingling with the blood that covered them. The man continued to kiss her, and her dazed mind allowed it… her trembling body longed for it.

            His warmth was missed as his lips left hers… as all his touches ceased. She could still feel the strands of his silk hair brushing against her ear as his head lifted from leaning into her. She wanted to speak, yet her lips could hardly move to form the words she wanted to say… or did not know what to say. She could only glance at the angel in a black suit before her world fell into darkness. 

            The rest was nothing but a blur. She had felt the touch of Sin on her lips and now it coursed through her body like a deep pain that she never wanted to be rid of. Her eyes that had stared straight into the eyes of Sin burned so that the tears kept falling, even when she felt herself fall into unconsciousness. 

            When she had felt a hand, a gloved hand, grasp her arms to pull her away she felt safe. In her fogged mind she felt his warmth, which was unlike the warmth of the man in her dream. It was true warmth, protective warmth… warmth that pulled her out of her spiral of death and into the street lights and open rain. 

            She felt his warmth under her, around her, holding her. She wanted this warmth, not like she wanted her dream. He was saving her… he was protecting her. She could feel nothing else but him, nor could she hear anything else but him… It was enough. It was covering the pain she felt.

            She felt herself being pulled from him then, away from the one who had saved her, and onto a damp bed. 'Hospital gurney…' She mused in her mind, yet found that her body could not move. 'What happened to me? How badly am I hurt?'

            She had squeezed his hand because she wanted someone to be with her. Anyone to be with her… She had no one, after all. It was for that reason that she clenched her fingers, waiting for some touch… and she felt it. She felt his hand encompass hers again as she felt the vehicle move under her. She could hear the sirens sounding and could imagine the light that they would blare onto the streets. 

            Yuna tried to wake. The sleep pulled at her in a death grip as the ambulance speeded down the road, jolting her body in the restraints and pushing her into the hands that held her head. Those hands were cold – those hands were wet with the blood that came from her temple, she could feel the warmth of it on their latex-covered fingers. She could hear them talking to the man who held her hand, asking questions that she could not discern and run through her mind. She could only hear the tones of their voices – higher for the questions and lower for the answers. It was all she could go by.

            "Tidus…" She heard him say. "My name is Tidus." 

Author's note: Alright, I know this chapter is a little funky but this is how it's supposed to be. I'm not going to explain too much, but know that this is a reality story in the modern world and this chapter has nothing to do with magic or fantasy or the like. I'll admit that it does take on a bit of a fantastical tone but the reason for this will be explained in later chapters. Until then, you'll just have to wait another two chapters to find out. ^_~. Please don't think this story's going to take this kind of turn, it really isn't. I promise all will be explained soon.


	5. AuronRikku In Her Fear

**Author's Note: **Hi everyone. No, I'm not dead. I know everyone probably hates me regardless for not updating this story in…oh…two years. There aren't any excuses, so I'm not going to give any. I can't exactly say what got me writing again, but all of your wonderful reviews and e-mails pleading me to continue finally got to me.

I am deeply sorry for not continuing this fanfiction in the speed in which I originally intended. I am also deeply sorry for keeping so many of you waiting. Please forgive me.

Hopefully, this will be the start of weekly updating for this story. I hope I can gain back all the fans I once had, and I'm hoping you all will keep this story on your favorites list. Please keep in mind that it has been two years since I have truly written anything, so this may not be up to the standards you all have so wonderfully set for me. Still, I hope it will work in the long run. Please give me some time to adjust to the groove of writing again, as well as the groove for this story I had originally intended. And also, please review, and please enjoy. I am truly flattered by all the reviews left for a mere four chapters, and I hope that I have not lost all my fans.

Once again, enjoy, and I'm sorry the wait was so miserably long.

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He Sees Her 

Chapter Five: Auron/Rikku In Her Fear

By: Dark Mousy

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Her situation was looking bleak. Four agents surrounded her in the brightly-lit room, one in each bright corner. It reminded her somewhat of a hospital room with its sterilized walls and large mirror that was, no doubt, a window into an office beyond. The table she sat at was pure steel and shined to a perfect gleam that seemed to reflect her fearful face back at her. She had desperately tried to stir up uneasy conversation with the agents around her but none of them had even blinked. 

"You all are robots!" She heaved a sigh, uncaring of whether they took offense at such a childish insult. Her blond hair was matted to her face with nervous perspiration, and though the air conditioning came out with chilling force she still felt hot and uneasy. "Stupid Rikku…stupid Rikku…" she muttered to herself, and gently pounded the table top for emphasis.

Though the events she had just seen were grisly at best, she still tried to retain her calm and cheerful demeanor…for the first three hours. After being denied a restroom break from the insufferable room she was starting to get ancy – and not just because of the fear. She swore under her breath. If they thought she was lying, they would surely get a laugh once she ended up wetting her shorts.

Though the chair was made out of steel like the table, it still clung mercilessly to her thighs. Every time she would shift into a different cross-legged position to hold her bladder at bay she swore the chair would hold onto skin follicles left behind. The sharp peeling sound as she removed her skin from the seat reminded her of cellophane being peeled from a days-old Thanksgiving turkey…Gross and painful looking.

"Look, you guys, I really…I really have to go!" She whined, in her child-like voice as her blond tresses bounced with her movement. "I'm not lying! If you don't let me go right now…"

Just as she was about to give her fiftieth or sixtieth empty threat for the evening, the door directly across the table from her opened. In stepped another black-clad robot agent, followed shortly by a much larger, more imposing man dressed in the most startling shade of crimson. She looked with wonder as she craned her neck up to see him, taken slightly aback by his grisly features and the fact that one eye was permanently shut from a scar.

She began to panic – she hadn't exactly heard stories…but she had seen the movies. The interrogation room was where they sent the muscle in to beat the crap out of the poor, unsuspecting little girl (a.k.a. her) and ruin her beautiful face for all eternity if she did not acquiesce to their questions. She felt her palms start to sweat, and the steam marks showed on the steel table around her clenched fists.

The room was starting to feel smaller every second. No sooner had both men stepped in that yet another one did – different from the robots in that he was simply dressed with a tall, lanky form and nasty-looking hair. His eyes, however, held a mischievous and almost child-like glint that she would have happily related to had she not been surrounded by so many serious-looking men.

The panic was really setting in now. She had it all figured out already. The man dressed in red was the bad cop; the one simply dressed was the good cop. They would force any and all answers out of her until she ended up in the juvi or dead…and the former would be much, much worse.

Resolved, she steeled herself for what was to come and looked the crimson clad man straight in the eye…while having to stand up on her tip toes to do so. Even then she was a good head shorter than him, but she was not about to let it get to her.

"I have rights," she said, rather stubbornly.

"Not in the FBI you don't." The man in plainclothes said, as he moved to sit on the edge of the table. She turned her glare to him, ready to hit his smug face. He had to be lying, she did have rights, she could not be held against her will like this…wasn't it kidnapping? Abduction? Did the government truly have that much leeway?

No, no, she decided. He was just trying to get to her. That's what they did in interrogation rooms, interrogate. Beat the living crap out of… "No, no," she said, trying to convince herself as she shook her head. There had to be another way around it. She was smart, she was a trained thief – she would figure it out.

"Look, I don't have to say anything without my lawyer," she began, and to add emphasis she made sure her pert little nose was placed high in the air. She had learned that from a movie, too.

The plain clothes agent looked as if he was about to offer a snide remark, but the crimson-clad man spoke first. "Enough."

Though the command was quiet, it was like a firm hand that pushed her straight down into her seat so fast her bladder seemed to give a jump. _'Not now…' _she pleaded with her errant organ, willing the need to get out of the office to go into the recesses of her mind.

Before Rikku knew it, she was jarred from her thoughts by the photographs that spread out before her. The large man had sat directly in front of her and had also proceeded to place numerous bloody photos in front of her. She glanced at them nervously, biting her bottom lip in anxiety. She didn't want to remember, and yet every picture conjured up a flash of recent events that left her shivering – and not from the cold.

"Would you like to tell me why you were found in a janitorial closet?" It was the first sentence she had heard him say, and despite the circumstances she was enraptured by the rough quality of his voice. It was like crème flowing over broken glass – smooth, but sharp at the same time. Where did men learn to talk like that?

Auron noticed with some dismay that her thoughts were on nothing in front of her, and to bring her back to reality he slammed a photo on the table with enough force to nearly rattle her out of her seat.

"Look, the sooner you tell us the sooner you can leave." The plain clothes agent began, as he slowly stood up. "Can I get you anything? Coffee? Tea?"

Rikku looked up at him with disdain, but forced a cute smile on her face. "Tea sounds fine." She saw the agents briefly look at each other in question, obviously wondering if she was lying about her bladder since she was so ready to accept something else to drink. In all truth, she just wanted some breathing room. They were playing good cop, bad cop. Was it going to be just like the movies?

The entire room was stiflingly silent as the agent returned with a cup of tea in a white Styrofoam cup. She took it gently, pretending to take a sip as she watched everyone around her with feigned disinterest. In all reality she was very interested…but only on the door. She had no idea what lay beyond but whatever it was, it had to be certainly better than here.

When it looked as if the crimson-clad man was about to speak, the door opened again. Rikku gave out an exasperated sigh as a woman poked her head in.

"Jecht?" She said. "There's someone on the line from the hospital, they say your son is there."

The reaction in the plain clothes agent was immediate, and Rikku noticed his smug demeanor fade instantly. She almost felt pity for him…almost. As soon as the man known as 'Jecht' left with another agent she was left with three agents and the man sitting in front of her. He was built like a fortress and looked like one too – she had no doubt that there was plenty of strength hidden under his clothes but strength tended to be slow…she was not going to stay here, she knew that for sure. She had already been threatened once, and she had to fear from her life on the outside and on the inside.

_'Not one word…' _she remembered the cool voice saying. _'Not a single word…' _And she remembered all to well how cold a gun barrel felt when it was neatly pressed against her pale temple.

"You can't keep me here like this," she said as she tried to sound as strong as she surely was not. Her hand made one sweeping motion to push all the pictures off the table in a flurry of blood and cold, soulless eyes staring out from the Polaroid's. "I know it's illegal past forty-eight hours…" She hoped she was right, since she had heard that from a movie too. Or was it government class? She could hardly tell the two apart anymore. "So if I have to wait here till then, I will." She gave a slight 'humph' in emphasis, and decided to gently turn her cup in her hands.

The man in front of her gave an exasperated sigh, and the other agents began picking up the fallen pictures.

It was now or never, she thought. Butterflies filled her stomach and chest as she studied the door very intently, as well as the two agents who were kneeling on the floor in the far side of the room. All she could remember were those three little words… _'Not one word…not one word…' _And it was those words that drove her forward.

In a rush of blond hair she sprung from her seat, making a leap for the door not four feet away. The man across from her, however, seemed to have anticipated the movement as soon as her muscles tightened and no sooner had she made it to the doorknob that his arms were around her – surprisingly strong arms. She reverted to a panicked state and began kicking and screaming against the captor that held her from behind, and with some satisfaction she heard the grunt from the man behind her as the back of her foot connected with his groin.

It was then that it seemed he wasn't going to take anymore of her antics, and she found herself twisted in his grip and slammed neatly against the steel table she had just sprung across. The hot tea spilt, searing her back through her tank top as the man above her roughly pressed her down.

All was quiet for a while before she gave a soft, soulful whimper at the pain that seemed delayed in coming. "You're hurting me," she nearly cried, and was momentarily surprised at the reaction the words caused in the man above her. He got off her as if she herself was burning, and left the room with the door slamming so hard the cheap crown molding cracked. The two other agents were left near speechless with bloody photos still in their hands, watching the door that Auron just left through.

Rikku, on the other hand, laid panting and burning with the violent contact on the no longer sterilized steel table.

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I enjoyed writing this chapter. I hope it's up to everyone's standards, and I promise that now I have nothing to do I will write a lot more frequently and update…but only if I get reviews! 


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